Heroes: Exodus
by Krissy7p
Summary: During season 3, the heroes fought to stop Pinehearst from potentially destroying the world. Here is the untold story of the lives of ordinary, but extraordinary people who helped to divert a diaster that would have rocked the very world. Reviews are love


_Hey Everyone_. I've been addicted to Heroes ever since season 1. Lately, I've been thinking about writing a Heroes epic with just Oc characters. No Mary Sues, no "so and so is Mohinder's secret love interest". Just an adventure I thought up in my head that happens during Villians that I wanted to share with ya'll.

Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to NBC and not me. The OCs are mine though.

**Chapter one: In the Beginning**

_"I have been driven many times to my knees_

_by the overwhelming conviction that I had_

_nowhere else to go. My own wisdom, and _

_that of all about me seem sufficient for the_

_day."_

_-_William Adams

_**Marney Parlov, Current Location: Chicago, Illinois**_

Though it was early September, the humid bough air suffocated everyone who had the misfortune of being in the streets. Marney Parlov happened to be one of those ill fated citizens, her long wool socks sticking to the skin of her leg as if it were trying to knit its way into her pores. Small beads of sweat gathered at the nape of her neck where black hair brushed against it in an irritable fashion. Checking her watch, she found herself to be fifteen minutes late for her curfew set by her ever overbearing mother. She hitched her back pack further on to her shoulder as her feet began to pick up a faster pace.

It didn't help that she had been lying to her parents in the first place. It was the same excuse she used whenever they questioned where she'd been.

"To Amanda Hymon's house." would be her always useful excuse. Of course, her parents didn't realize that Amanda had moved to Colorado three months ago, but that was beside the point. Marney just never thought to feel guilty about that lie, because she _was_ technically at the Hymon household. She just wasn't there for friendly chit chat.

It never ceased to amaze the 15 year old how quickly the sky darkened this time of year. Just ten minutes past 7:30pm and the majority of Chicago's streets were lighting up like Vegas. This was just another sign that her walk home needed to turn into a sprint. Taking a left turn, she aimed to take the back alleys that littered the city, saving her the time of having to wait at crosswalks. It was a short cut she had used before, her knowledge of the alleys so strong that she could maneuver through them while blindfold. Her cream colored hands slipped themselves into the back pockets of her skirt while she angled her chin up to observe the darkening sky above.

Now after seven minutes of taking one back street after another, not much of the main street cacophony could be detected; which was another reason why Marney decided to use the route home. This naturally made every noise made in the alleys amplified ten fold, making it easier for the girl to hear for any junkies that intended on scoring a few dollars. Something like that hardly happened, but that didn't mean she wasn't cautious about it. However, there was a noise that did catch her attention. It was a soft shuffling sound, not like the sound you'd associate with someone walking behind you, more like the sound of a person's foot stepping on a piece of paper and shuffling it against the ground. Marney attributed the noise to rats running along the ground; people weren't the only things inhabiting the city after all. It wasn't until this continued even as she taking turns that the sound became some much more sinister. The shuffling became slow, steady squeaks of shoes on the pavement. The footsteps never sped up and they faded once Marney had paused in her trek.

Finally, she came to a halt in the second to last alley before it opened up to her street corner. Snapping her head around, it didn't surprise her that no one was there. She was just hearing things, with all that she had been doing it seemed sensible that her imagination was just supplying unhealthy delusions for her to stress over. The illusion faded however, when the sharpest, most undulated pain surged through her body. Only a week cry could fall from her paling lips as her muscles convulsed intermittently. Her knees scrapped the ground as she fell, the small blood smeared on them nothing compared to her current pain. Brown eyes unconsciously widened, searching the alley in panic for her assailant and any possible escape route. It was then that the owner of the footsteps emerged, from around the corner of a Thai restraunt.

The man was a rich shade of black, like the people from Nigeria Marney had seen in one of those National Geographic magazines her father persuaded her to read. His black and white formal clothing and shade contrasting sharply with the violent act he'd just committed. Held in his hand was a gun, but it didn't appear to any she had seen before. Whatever it was, the gun was obviously what had shot her with the monstrous pain that was still causing her body to twitch. Fighting for consciousness, she crawled backwards while watching him walk towards her ever so slowly. Nothing could be read from his expression, but it was implied that he wasn't going to just let her go and head home.

"Go away, step any closer and..." Marney's words sounded weak and pitiful even to her own ears. That gun surely had more ammo than what was previously used on her and it wasn't any secret that her would be attacker had the body strength to subdue her. With every step though, the fear and desperation in her voice echoed the panic concentrated in her caramel orbs.

"You come near me and I'll scream!" Her threat had no back up either. People in Chicago weren't exactly citizens of the year. Another scream meant just another rape, another notch up on the city's crime rate. He was barely a few yards from her, his face remaining the same neutral mask that didn't shift with each plea that came from the girl. Dirt and grim covered her hands and slid under her nails with each clench of the ground she made. Her elbow received a cut when it met with the brick wall that collided against her back, signaling her cornering and defeat. _'No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no' _Her thoughts screamed with every step. Finally, his dark hand reached out to do whatever strange purpose he had intended.

"JUST GO AWAY!" A high pitched scream managed to express, piercing the night with a sound that hardly any one could ignore, but it was anyway. The gust of wind that followed the outburst however, could not. It was as if a hurricane had settled itself inside the small space the alley provided. In less than three seconds every trashcan and dumpster had been flung yards down the alley, papers littering the ground flew with it and created a whirlwind that blocked Marney's view. Just as soon as it had started, the wind was vacuumed back into nothing. She stared at the scene in shock, too dumbfounded to realize that her attacker was now at the very end of the alley, sprawled on his front and his arm twisted in an unnatural angle.

She didn't even bother to check if the man was alive. Scrambling to her feet, she nearly slipped on a newspaper as she fled from the alley and back to the main street.

_**Kyle Skarks, Current Location: Sacramento, California**_

The beaches of Sacramento were really the best part of living in Cali. Part of the only reason that Kyle Skarks even considered coming college in the state was because of the fabulous "scenic" view that he would have. Oh and the education too of course. Truly the best part of the college freshman's day was just lounging on the pier and observing all the lovely assets that the state had to offer. This was, in fact, exactly what he was doing, letting the sun bake his pale and freckled skin. Most wouldn't see and Irish boy with red hair as curly and outrageous as his in mere sunlight, let alone be seen at the beach without any sunscreen.

The corners of his mouth lifted into a confident grin as two women scantly clad in bikinis passed by, both of them giggling like school girls. Chuckling to himself, Kyle pushed himself into a standing position, stretching and wincing as his spine popped in certain places. Like clockwork, the hot dog seller at the end of the pier, whose hot dogs weren't exactly Kyle's favorite but what could a guy get on his kind of budget, began to pack up his business on wheels. This was the signal that the time was now 5:00pm which meant that he had to get back to his dorm before the RA decided to have his ass for the second time this semester. A sigh registered from the boy as he began to short journey back to the campus.

The walk was nice of course, but there weren't really too many plants around the area. Back home his mother used to keep a really nice garden that he'd help with on occasion, which eventually led him to take want a career in biology, especially organic biology. Kyle gave a humorless laugh at the thought of his father whenever he discovered that his son wanted to become a plant scientist.

_'Not exactly the mechanic or lawyer he wanted me to be'_ He mused bitterly, crossing the barely used street lane towards the university's entrance. Showing his ID to Barbara, the campus' security guard for the week, he took the long way to the boy's dorm which cut through the university's courtyard. By far it was Kyle's favorite part of the campus; lush green with a variety of plant life that managed to look diverse without making the whole area appear congested. A wistful happiness crossed the red head's face, his lungs taking in deep breaths at the crisp smell of the cut grass. The effect was ruined though, once he opened the doors and stepped into the cold air conditioned staleness of the dorm.

Taking each step slowly at a time, he really wasn't surprised to see the RA, Howard, waiting for him at the top of the stair, arms crossed and a recognizable scowl painted across his visage. What struck Kyle as odd was the presence of a large box being balanced against Howard's hip. The irritated RA ignored the boy's questioning glance, instead thrusting the box into Kyle's hands once he reached the top.

"We're your personal UPS Skarks." The pimply junior snapped as evenly as possible. "Next time, get yourself a P.O box so you're mystery sender can give you your packages there." Kyle inclined his head to him, showing his thanks and acceptance. Stepping around Howard, he proceeded to room, cocking his head back to give a jokingly phrased,

"Sure thing Howie."

To which Howard's face began to take on a purple hue. Balling his fists in his jeans, his voice could no longer hold the annoyance that his body language portrayed.

"It's Howard, Skarks, Howard!"

Snickering low in his throat, he balanced the box in his left arm while he fished inside his pockets for the room key. After retrieving it and opening the door, he entered the room and carefully dumped the box on his bed. Plopping down in a computer chair, Kyle rolled over to the lap top he had for nearly ten years and began the very slow process of turning the ancient contraption on. While waiting, he scooted himself to the bed and inspected the package. It didn't look like it contained a bomb so that was a good sign. It wasn't until he came across the sender's information that a genuine look of excitement danced in his green eyes. A loud ping from the lap top signaled that not only had the damn thing turned on, but he had also received an instant message.

Zooming back over to the desk, he found that his pen pal had been the cause of the ping. Leaning back dangerously in his chair, Kyle gave the message a cursory scan.

_Fondly_Paradise(5:24pm): Sup man, I'm guessing that Mr. Howie Mendel chewed you _

_out for being late again huh?_

The Howie Mendel comment managed to get a quick laugh out of the red head before his fingers went to typing.

_Kee-lay(5:25pm): lol, he even turned purple this time. Oh btw, I got a box from my sis'_

_today._

_Fondly_Paradise(5:25pm): Really? When's the last time she's sent one of those? Like_

_four months ago or something like that?_

_Kee-lay(5:26pm): somewhere around there._

_Fondly_Paradise(5:26pm): So what is it?_

_Kee-lay(5:26pm): gimme a sec to open it_

Using the desk as a wall, he pushed himself back to the bed and quickly grabbed the box. It took some time to open it with all the required taping around it just in case anything dare breathe near the damn thing. Finally, after sifting through the mountains of cushioning, Kyle's hand drew back to reveal a flower pot with what looked to be a very exotic flower pod inside. His smile broadened wider at the sight of the plant, holding it delicately in his hand as he pushed himself back to the conversation.

_Kee-lay(5:38pm): it's a plant_

_Fondly_Paradise(5:38pm): Cool. Normally that would be a weird thing to get, but I_

_guess it works if you're in school for that kind of thing._

_Kee-lay(5:39pm): You try living with the name Dandylion Man! I don't even see where_

_they even got that one. It doesn't make any sense_

_Fondly_Paradise(5:40pm): Could always be worse_

Kyle nodded to that sentiment, knowing first hand from middle school how worse it could get. Leaning back once again, he let his thoughts wander over the subject of his pen pal. He really had no idea how or when the writing started, maybe it was after he signed up for this university pen pal program. Apparently, the program was designed so that student in colleges across the nation could socialize with each other based off pen pals. Kyle did sign up for it, but didn't really think anything of it until he received and instant message from someone named Fondly_Paradise explaining to him that he'd drawn Kyle's name out of the metaphorical hat. Five months later and it was like the two were best friends. Though Kyle used this term loosely, because even though he was making a career off of plants and flowers, there was some masculine pride from his father that he just couldn't shake.

_Fondly_Paradise(5:56pm): Did you fall off the deep end there?_

The message's ping brought the boy back into reality, his fingers going back to their task of typing.

_Kee-lay(5:57pm): yea sry about that, brain fart. But hey I've g2g, professor bird face_

_wants our papers on genetics according to plants due tomorrow and I definitely have_

_not started it yet_

_Fondly_Paradise(5:58pm): Sucks for you man. I'll see ya._

_Kee-lay(5:58pm): later_

_Kee-lay has logged off at (5:58pm)_

Clicking the Microsoft Word document icon, he waited for that painfully slow option to begin as he watched the plant set beside him from the corner of his eyes. Slowly, the Cactus flower began to slowly crawl up from it's pod shell before the process rapidly increased, the actually flower of the plant blooming less than a minute after the transformation began. Grin evident on his lips, Kyle returned his gaze to the glowing computer screen and began the tedious task of typing.

_**Alex Gordon, Current Location: Detroit, Michigan**_

Blood red nails carved circles into the wooden counter of what could be called as the most rundown bar in all of Detroit. Not rundown in the sense that it was just in the need of a fixer up, no Geli's Bar was the best place to find what you were looking for, legal or not. It was for these exact reasons that Alex Gordon decided to even venture into the place. If it was her choice, the woman would have rather found her information in an alley way; at least then there wouldn't be so many people watching her. Straightening up on the bar stool, she casually motioned for the bar tender, who seemed to be taking his lovely sweet time in making his way to her.

"Whatcha need?" The bar tender, Carl according to the badge he had pinned to his shirt, asked. He asked this without stopping his cleaning of the glasses and counter. The rag he used looked so brown and green that Alex had to swallow back an urge to retch before she began.

"I need some information." She explained in the lowest voice as she could possibly use without it being overheard. Her top half leaned over the counter towards Carl to emphasize her need for confident discreetness. Carl nodded expectantly, still wiping the same glass he had been cleaning at the beginning of the conversation. He didn't say anything afterwards, which clued her in that the man would need some persuasion before talking to her.

_'Men.'_ She mentally spat while rolling dark blue eyes. Her red lips mouth stretched into a practiced seductive smile, her choppy bleach blonde hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned more over the counter; doing this gave the man a pretty clear view of her cleavage and the outline of what lingerie she was wearing. Alex almost laughed at the sight of Carl's eyes darken in a sign of lust and submission.

"What do ya wanna know?" His voice gruffer as his hands placed the glass he was holding down on the counter. Sitting back down in her stool, she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a photograph. She slid the picture, face down, towards the man. Carl made sure that no one was specifically looking their way before he flipped the picture up. Alex crossed her hands under her chest, watching the bar tender with hawk eyes, searching for any reason that she should leave. After a minute or so, Carl placed the photo back down and slid it across the counter back to her.

"Yeah, in here a couple days ago with some other people." He said, picking up his glass and polishing it once again. This must have been a habit he picked up whenever he was nervous about giving information. "They were talkin' bout splittin' up and goin' to two different places. Now I didn't hear where one of the places was but I did hear them say something 'bout some goin' to New York City." The glass was placed down once again, a clear indication that this was either all the information that Carl knew, or that it was all the information that Alex was going to get. It wasn't too much, but it was a definite start.

Hopping off of the cushion of the bar stool, which had to have been the hardest seat Alex had ever sat in, she turned on her heel intending to leave. A large hand that was attached to an even larger and hairier arm stopped her. Angling her head over, her eyes narrowed on the gripped look that Carl's features held. Obviously, he wanted his half of the information deal. Smiling as sweetly as humanly possible, her red nails began to walk up his arm gently; the hairs on said arm standing on end with each caress.

"You didn't think that I'd leave you high and dry honey?" By the sultry inclination of her voice, it wasn't a question. The grip on her arm relaxed before the hand went back to the bigger man's side. Turning her body to face Carl, she continued to give the performance of her life, her fingers tracing shapes on to the surface of the counter, no one noticing the sticky substance trailing behind each stroke of her fingers. "You just wait till after your shifts done, I'll be right behind the building waiting for you." With Carl's grin showing his acceptance, Alex made her way towards the exit, her fingers trailing along the counter, wall and door as she went.

Once she had reached four yards away from Geli's Bar, a hand slipped into her jacket pocket, a silver lighter held in her delicate hand. Flipping it open, she gave the fire a marveled gaze before carelessly tossing it behind her. She heard the explosion before she could see the glow of the flames. Blood lips and blue eyes glowed against the fiery glow, a twisted smile crafted across painted lips. Slipping the lighter back in it's place, only the sounds of Alex's boots and the crackle of flames could be heard as she walked away from the scene.

"Looks like I'm heading for New York."

_**Anthony Combs, Current Location: Memphis, Tennessee**_

The scratch of pencil to paper filled the room of Anthony Combs, his red and black hair falling over his face, creating a shield between him and the world. He had been like this for hours now, just putting pencil to paper. Page after page, the boy not stopping to drink or use any facilities. Loose leaf papers and journals decorating the room's floor and shelves, basically every other space that was available. Other than that, Anthony's room was decorated like any other college student dubbed by the rest of the school's population as emo would be. Various band posters were tapped or posted on to white wash walls. The boy's nails painted black to match the inker color of his hair.

The sound of a gentle knock on the door disturbed the continuing scribbling, but the boy did not cease. The knock came a second time, sharper than the first, this was ignored as well. When Anthony finally lifted his head up, aware of his surroundings, the racking on his door sounded as if someone was using both hands to beat the wood. Dazed and confused, the lanky boy stumbled towards the door, nearly collapsing against it. Opening it a crack, he came face to face with his much angrier room mate, who had lost his key once again.

"What the hell man?" Dylan Larson growled, obviously more than just a bit drunk. Next to him, well hanging off of him would be the more appropriate term, was his girl friend of the week Nicole Goldberg. "I've been banging to the door for the past five minutes, what were you doing jacking off or something?" Mixed with Dylan's anger was the classic sneer of someone who enjoyed putting others down. Restraining a sigh himself, Anthony leaned his wait against the door frame to give himself an appearance of uncaring, but mostly so that he wouldn't have to use his weak legs to keep himself up.

"No, I wasn't, just getting some work done." He explained, his hushed voice attributed to it's lack of use for the past few hours. His roommate scoffed at this, his square shoulders raising to show just how much he thought that to be b.s.

"Work, you mean all the papers and crap you've got all over the room?" Dylan asked rhetorically. "Seriously, I don't see how you can live just cooped up in the room and writing that poetry crap all day." Nicole perked up at the mention of poetry, casting her eyes on Anthony with something a keen to being impressed.

"You write poetry?" She asked; face sparkling with a romantic notion that was probably engrained into her DNA. Anthony shrugged, sincerely not seeing what was so romantic to women about poetry.

"Well, I'm an English major, sort of comes with the territory." His voice sounded much more confident when he talked about his poems than he did on a normal basis; something Dylan picked up on instantly. Throwing an arm over Nicole's shoulder, he gently squeezed the skin, silently telling her that it was time to leave.

"I actually just came here to get my key." He said, the tone he used meant that Anthony had better just get his key or there would be trouble. "It's Nicole's birthday today and we're out to celebrate. At this the girl giggled in excitement, clinging even more to the body next to her. Feeling much more stable than earlier, Anthony managed to make it across the room, take Dylan's key, and hand it back to him without collapsing to the floor. Dylan accepted the key, nodding his head in a reluctant sign of thanks before nudging his head to the side. Nicole took her cue and joined the boy in walking down the hall, twisting enough to give Anthony an enthusiastic wave before he shut the door behind them.

Nearly crawling back to his desk, he placed himself on to the stiff chair and shifted through the newly written poems on his desk, trying to see exactly what he wrote. There were numerous new ones scattered against the old poems, but the freshest one was still in Anthony's journal.

_Two flowers sit upon a sil_

_The taller leans over and shields the sun_

_The smaller one is deposed_

_The taller one wilts_

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
